


Patience

by UP2L8



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutually oblivious idiots, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UP2L8/pseuds/UP2L8
Summary: Roy and Ed are oblivious. Riza has no patience for that crap.





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> So, Happy New Year? I was hoping to have this up on the first, but nope. Sorry. Better late than never I guess. There were so many great fics posted over the holiday, many of which were getting-together/first-time stories, that I thought I’d go for one, too. Unbeta’d as usual, so if you see any screw-ups or typos, please let me know.

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye watched as her commanding officer, Brigadier General Roy Mustang, scowled an imperious scowl and barked out orders to his squad. The soldiers under his command jumped to follow those orders, a well-oiled military machine. The General surveyed the destruction – overturned cars, badly damaged storefronts, cratered pavement – and then turned his exasperated glare upon the blond, brown-coated figure sitting on the edge of the curb. 

The aftermath of a major military operation was always messy, and this occasion was no exception. The fact that combat alchemy had come into play, and that one of the combatants was the notoriously destructive Fullmetal Alchemist, made this a particularly messy disaster. 

In his defense, Edward had no doubt done his best to limit the destruction in his running battle through midtown streets, to avoid injury to bystanders if nothing else. His opponent, however, had been under no such restriction, as the gleam of moonlight on shattered glass and crumpled steel confirmed. 

Dust eddied through the bobbing beams of flashlights as the soldiers worked to clear debris from the streets, and Hawkeye watched, outwardly impassive, as the Brigadier General stalked toward his youngest subordinate. 

“Report, Fullmetal,” Mustang snapped. 

“It’s not my fault, okay?” Edward muttered, head down. “I was walking out of that deli on the corner of North and High Park and bumped into this crazy woman. I didn’t even have time to apologize; she took one look at me and started throwing buildings. Who the hell is she, anyway?” 

Mustang looked over to where the unconscious criminal was being loaded into a black, unmarked van. “Alma Garrett, formerly the Stonemason Alchemist. Wanted for the murder of her commanding officer and several civilians in West City some years ago.” 

Edward nodded slowly. “Her technique was pretty impressive.” 

“She must have recognized you and thought you were attempting an arrest,” the Brigadier General mused. “Likely she decided it was better to be safe than sorry. Unfortunately for her, your stature has no bearing on your combat skills.” 

“Fuck you,” Edward snarled. “Why am I always running into paranoid assholes? I lost my sandwich, too.” 

“You’re a trouble magnet, Fullmetal,” Mustang stated his offhand opinion. “And paranoia is a hardwired survival instinct.” 

“Says another paranoid asshole.” 

Mustang didn’t deny it as he strode confidently away, smirk firmly in place and in complete, arrogant control. “I want a full report on my desk by 0800 tomorrow, Major,” he ordered, ignoring the middle finger salute Edward threw his way in response. 

The Hawk’s eyes followed her charge as he moved toward the MPs securing the rogue alchemist for transport, but something caught her attention and she turned her gaze back to the younger man. Edward was watching the General as closely as Hawkeye herself, but Edward’s face held an odd expression of pained wistfulness that twisted a moment later into something else only to be wiped completely away. 

Shaking his head, Edward called, "I'll see what I can do about the damage to the street," then stood and walked away quickly before anyone could answer him.

"Ah, so that's how it is," Hawkeye said softly to herself, surprised. Suddenly a few things were making more sense. 

It had been an unexpected pleasure when the Elric brothers, thought to be irretrievably lost to the other world beyond the Gate, had suddenly reappeared in Amestris the year before, as well as a great relief for their many friends. They had been heralded as heroes for their role in turning back the otherworldly invasion the previous year, and had to endure a few months of being paraded around the country as poster children for the new Parliamentary government, much to the brothers’ embarrassment. It had been a foregone conclusion that after the politicians had extracted their due, Edward would retire from the military to the obscurity of the Eastern countryside. 

Except that had not happened. Much to the great astonishment of everyone who knew him, Edward had decided to keep his State Alchemist title, and continue to work as before under Brigadier General Roy Mustang, leaving a strangely unsurprised Alphonse to return to Resembool on his own. At the time, Hawkeye had thought that it might have something to do with Edward’s natural penchant to keep moving. Now however, the pieces of this puzzle were falling into a more logical arrangement.     

It wasn't hard to catch up to the young man. Edward had hurried down the dark sidewalk and around the corner, slipping into the first alley he saw. Peering into the narrow passage, Hawkeye watched as Edward stopped to take a deep, slow breath, running one hand through his hair, his automail fist clenched. It must be hard, Hawkeye mused, to have borne the weight of your sins upon your soul at such a tender age, to have clasped your brother’s future in unsteady hands in a desperate fight to save him, and adding insult to injury, to have feelings for your unattainable commanding officer. How long had this been going on? Clearly long enough for it to begin to show. Why hadn’t this caught the Hawk’s eye sooner? 

And how exactly did she feel about it? 

At twenty-one, Edward was definitely of age, though much younger than the Brigadier General. That might be a concern for a typical young adult, but Edward was far from typical. The Fullmetal Alchemist had seen, done, and endured far more than many far older could claim, and accepted responsibility for his actions with far more maturity as well. The fact that Roy was Edward’s superior officer might pose a problem in terms of fraternization protocols, but only if their relationship was discovered, and both men were very good at playing their cards extremely close to their chests. 

As for Roy, he had been denying himself for too long, in Riza’s opinion. The two years he had spent in the far north, presumably paying for the role he had played in ending their inhuman Führer’s bloody reign, had been more about grief than atonement for failing to protect his leader, as was the official story. Hawkeye had long since realized, possibly even before the man himself, that her friend and commander regarded the Fullmetal Alchemist with an affection that was in no way parental and well beyond simple admiration. When the younger alchemist had disappeared, Roy had been devastated, in mourning for a profound and personal loss he could never publicly admit. 

And then Edward had returned, Roy’s world had swung back into some kind of alignment, and things had gone back to something resembling normalcy. As for Roy’s feelings, of course he would never burden Edward by revealing them, particularly since the General likely believed that those feelings could never be mutual. 

Though it appeared that they actually _were_. 

Who knew how long it might be until Roy himself noticed, and even when he did, he might decide against acting upon that realization for any number of noble, if misguided, reasons. 

No. If this interpersonal stalemate was to be broken, the first step would not be taken by Roy Mustang; of that Riza was certain. Edward would have to make the first move, and Riza believed him perfectly capable of doing so. The Fullmetal Alchemist was, after all, impulsive, persistent, and most importantly, courageous. The only thing holding him back was his certainty that Roy was beyond his reach. All Edward really needed was a nudge in the right direction.

Decision made, Hawkeye approached the young major. She made no effort to hide her approach, and Edward’s shoulders tensed before he turned to see who was intruding upon his private moment. 

"Edward," Hawkeye said in quiet greeting, unsmiling.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Edward’s deer in the headlights expression clearly wondered how long she had been watching him, and what she had seen. “I was just . . .” The young man made a vague gesture that clarified nothing. “Did you need something?” he finally asked, the emotional turmoil he had been struggling with moments before now completely hidden behind an almost convincing frown of confusion. 

Hawkeye cut right to the chase.

"You want him," she stated, matter of fact. "Don't you."

"Excuse me?" Edward asked, his face frozen.

"The Brigadier General," Hawkeye clarified, moving in closer and lowering her voice even more. "You want him."

Edward stood his ground, a determined set to his features. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said firmly, his quiet voice low, almost threatening. 

Hawkeye considered backing off, letting Edward keep his secret, but no. She couldn’t let this go.

"Yes you do," she said, no nonsense. 

Even in the darkness of the alley Hawkeye caught the flash of pain in the Edward's eyes, and though she felt like a bully for pushing him, she wasn’t going to back down. She wanted this for her oldest friend. So much that it surprised her, actually, and while it might not be fair to force Edward out into the open about this, if it all went well, he would reap the benefits too. 

His determination wilting, Edward looked away, eyes shifting to the side. “So, what? Are you warning me off?” he muttered. “You don’t have to worry. To him, I’m just an annoying pain in the ass. I know I can’t . . .” 

Edward shook his head, resigned, and Hawkeye’s chest tightened in sympathy. Smiling, she stepped closer still, causing Edward to look her way again. 

“So you _think_ you can’t have him?” she asked, eyebrows raised. 

“What,” Edward cleared his throat, “what do you mean?” His expression was a mixture of confusion and mistrust. 

Smile widening, Hawkeye told him. 

~0~

 

When Edward returned to the scene of the battle, he was armed with a new and almost overwhelming awareness. The insights Hawkeye had given him into the motivations of his commanding officer had impacted like bombs, and Ed still felt shell shocked by her revelations. Roy Mustang cared for him? Had pined for him while he was trapped beyond the Gate? That whole hiding out in the frozen north business had been because of him? The idea was so totally insane he didn’t even dare to hope. Ed’s skepticism must have been obvious, because the Hawk had patted him on the shoulder with a twinkle in her eyes, and suggested that he _observe_. Then she had walked away, leaving him to his thoughts. 

Which had whirled frantically in his head, implausible what-ifs marching to the rapid beat of his heart. The only thing keeping Ed from rejecting the Hawk’s words out of hand was the simple fact that he trusted her. She had always looked out for him and Al. She was someone they had counted on to have their backs, and she had never let them down. No one on Mustang’s senior staff ever had, and Ed couldn’t think of a single reason why Hawkeye would lie to him about this. 

Add that to the fact that he had been hiding his feelings for Mustang for years, and there was really no way Ed could dismiss this if there was even the smallest possibility that Hawkeye might be right. If it was true, if Mustang cared for Ed too . . . 

Hawkeye could be wrong, though. She had admitted that Mustang had never actually, outright said . . . anything. All the First Lieutenant had to go on were her own observations, interpreted on the basis of her long term friendship with the man. Conjecture, with no quantifiable evidence. 

When he thought about it, Ed had to admit that his relationship with Mustang had gradually evolved into something resembling mutual respect, but he wouldn’t go so far as to call it friendship. Granted, that might have been more Ed’s fault than anyone else’s. It had been getting increasingly more difficult to be in the General’s presence with Ed’s feelings for the asshole constantly clamoring for attention, so Ed did his best to spend as little time around the man as possible. Ed also tended to avoid those Friday evening get-togethers at the local watering hole when he knew Mustang would be joining the rest of the office, and leaving as soon as he could when the bastard showed up unexpectedly. The last thing Ed wanted was to let something slip while under the influence and for Mustang to discover his secret. 

Unless there was no _reason_ to keep his feelings a secret from the man.  

So. Fine. Ed would observe. Not like he had anything better to do, and it couldn’t hurt. It was going to be a long night, repairing the extensive damage to the streets; he would have plenty of time to do so. 

The foot soldiers had done a fairly competent job of arranging the rubble in jumbled heaps at intervals along the path of destruction. Edward stepped up to the closest, clapped his hands, and pressed them to the debris. It only took a few moments for the nearest section of road to return to its former condition, cracks and craters repaired with barely a trace. Ed turned to the next tangled pile. 

And felt eyes upon him. Pretending to focus his attention on the wreckage, Ed circled the debris pile until he could see Mustang out of the corner of his eye. The man was standing still by a twisted lamp standard, head turned to observe his youngest subordinate. The light of the full moon lit his thoughtful gaze, focused on Ed and only Ed. So much so, in fact, that Havoc had to nudge his commander to catch his attention. Twice. 

Well. 

Edward’s inner scientist was not impressed, however. A single observation did not necessarily make - or break - a hypothesis. He’d caught Mustang staring at him. So what? There were plenty of reasons why he might, most of which only included feelings of curiosity, or anger, or both. Ed needed more data. 

Over the course of the evening, he got it. 

And frankly, now that he was looking, Ed kind of wondered how he had missed it. 

Not that he would have noticed, in the early days before he’d sacrificed himself to the Gate for Al. By necessity he’d been too caught up in his quest for shit like that, and if he was honest, too much of a naive kid when it came to understanding the complex motivations of others to have a clue. His crush on the bastard was something he had endured, simply another unfortunate pothole in the rocky road of his life, just one more thing to prove that fate was cruel, but could never beat him down. He had feelings for a skirt-chasing bastard. They weren’t, and never would be returned. End of story. 

Now, however, things were different. _Edward_ was different. Not fundamentally, of course, but the difference was in the details. He had more experience dealing with people now, his arrogant self confidence tempered with self control. Life in Germany had taught him a few things about protecting himself and Al from dangerous assholes, and the best defence against assholes of any variety was to see them coming and thus avoid them altogether. At the same time, simply living in isolation was not an option; interacting with people, socially and professionally, was necessary for survival too. Ed realized that the best way to keep himself and his little brother safe was to make sure he could tell friend from foe in no uncertain terms. That meant learning to accurately judge the people around him, and Ed had always been an extremely quick study when it counted. 

Not that Ed had to tax his hard-earned people judging skills to any great extent for his current task; he soon realized that Roy Mustang was surprisingly easy to read. 

Maybe it was because he didn’t expect Ed to be observing him so closely. Maybe it was because he didn’t realize that Ed wasn’t the oblivious kid he used to be. Maybe it was because he didn’t think Ed would care enough to be observing him at all. Whatever the reason, Mustang wasn’t making much of an effort to hide his feelings; everything was right there, on display for Edward to read.  

Take the way the General watched him when he thought Edward wasn’t looking. It seemed as though every time his back was turned, Mustang’s eye was on him. And the look in his eye, the unmistakable warmth of affection, was very telling. Yet when Edward turned to face the man, the look was gone, replaced by an arrogant smirk. 

The way Mustang interacted with him also revealed something of the man’s secret. Over the course of the evening Edward made note of how the General’s body language often gave him away. In conversation he leaned toward Edward, hands in pockets and relaxed in his stance, eye sparkling as the verbal sparring heated up, so different from the mildly detached formality with which the General related to others subordinate to him while on the job. 

Even the Flame’s tone of voice had a story to tell. The air of command was there in conversation with all, but with Edward it deepened just a touch, to a subtle but unmistakable purr. 

Still, it wasn’t until they were nearly finished with the cleanup that Edward finally got his indisputable evidence. 

It had already been a long day when Ed had left Headquarters that evening, and running into the Stonemason Alchemist had made it a whole lot longer. The fight, and subsequent large scale transmutations required to repair the damage, coupled with the fact that Ed had lost his supper hours ago, damn it, left the young alchemist feeling a bit light headed. Standing up just a little too fast from a crouched transmutation was all it took. The world spun around him, and the two staggering steps backward were not enough to keep his balance. Ed braced himself for impact with the ground. 

He should have braced instead for the strong, steadying hands on his shoulders. 

“Fullmetal,” Mustang’s voice was undisguised concern. “Are you alright? Were you injured in the battle with Stonemason?” The last was faintly accusing. 

Chin dipping to his chest, Ed shook his head. A mistake, as it made the world spin even faster. Keeping his eyes on the toes of his boots, he took deep, even breaths, waiting for it to stop. It took a few moments, but finally Ed felt his equilibrium return. 

“Edward?” 

Ed’s gaze snapped up to his commander’s face, eyes wide, shocked at the use of his given name. Shocking as well was Mustang’s expression, a mix of alarm and outright concern, completely open. Ed stared in wonder, held spellbound by an eye so deeply blue it appeared black, pupil blown wide in the dim light. In his slightly disoriented state, Ed had the distinct sensation of falling into that unfathomable, indigo regard. 

“I’m okay,” he said at last, uneven voice drawing a frown from the other man. “Just tired, and hungry. I stood up too fast.” 

Mustang’s eye shifted away for a moment, and when it returned to again lock with Ed’s, the perfectly self-assured General was back, overbearing smirk in place. 

“Havoc! Bring the car around!” he barked, eye never leaving Ed’s. “You are dismissed, Fullmetal,” he said firmly. “Go home and get some rest. And instead of take-out, might I suggest that you make a sandwich for yourself? It would likely be safer for everyone that way. I’ll be expecting your report by noon tomorrow.” 

Giving Ed’s shoulders a slight squeeze, Mustang finally stepped back and turned, striding confidently away. 

In no time at all Ed was sitting in the General’s black town car, pretending to listen to Havoc’s cheerful banter as he drove Ed home to his small apartment near the base. As it happened, Ed’s mind was far too occupied with other things to pay attention to the Lieutenant’s rambling monologue.  

It was all very subtle, but unmistakeable nevertheless. Mustang cared. 

All the little details added up to paint a larger, tantalizing picture: the hidden looks, the subtle body language, the playful teasing, the concern for his wellbeing. And was it his imagination that Mustang’s hands had lingered on Ed’s shoulders far longer than necessary once his light-headedness had passed? Yesterday Ed wouldn’t have noticed, and if he had, would have waved it off as wishful thinking. Today, however, it was just one more hint exposing more of this almost unbelievable revelation. 

Separately these details were inconsequential, but within the context that Hawkeye had provided? No, only a fool would disregard it, and Edward was nobody’s fool. 

The evidence was as overwhelming as what it suggested, and Ed couldn’t discount it. Hawkeye was _right_. 

Now. What the hell was he going to do about it? 

 

~0~

 

Noon the next day, and the Fullmetal Alchemist was uncharacteristically on time for his appointment with his superior. Hawkeye announced him, and Roy straightened in his seat, elbows resting on his polished desk, hands clasped under his chin. With smirk firmly in place he took in the sight of Major Edward Elric stalking though the door to stand before him. The lack of salute came as no surprise. 

The years had done little to change Roy’s young subordinate, aside from a bit more height. The golden hair tied in a high tail was much longer, but still a glorious fall that Roy longed to feel against his skin. Those mesmerizing eyes were thoughtful today, locked to Roy’s own, searching for something, and though Roy could not guess what he might seek, he was sure he would soon find out. The General’s smirk widened with anticipation. He always looked forward to verbally sparring with this, his favorite opponent. Edward was so passionate in his anger, and while it wasn’t exactly the kind of passion Roy wished to inspire, he would take what he could get. 

“How nice of you to show up on time for a change, Fullmetal,” he said dryly. “Fell out of bed, did you?” 

Edward scowled. “No, bastard. It’s lunch time, and I’m hungry.” 

Roy sighed. “Very well. Where is your report?” 

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc chose that moment to poke his head in the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Chief, but we’re all heading out for lunch at Mendy’s. Do you want us to pick something up for you and the Boss?” 

Edward turned to glare at the taller blond. “No. He doesn’t. I’m taking him out to eat.” 

Edward was facing Havoc, so he missed Roy’s reaction, much more subtle than Havoc’s dropped jaw, but still remarkable. By the time Edward turned back to Roy, the older man’s face was once again completely composed. 

“Are you?” the General said, leaning back in his chair. “Not that I’m accepting, Fullmetal, but to what do I owe this thoughtful invitation?” 

“You need to eat. I need to eat.” Edward shrugged, disturbingly nonchalant. “We can do it together.”

Roy affected a sigh. “I would prefer that you keep your mind on business, Major.” 

“I am,” Edward assured him with a sharp smile, completely ignoring Havoc gawking in the doorway. “You ordered me to be here at this time; _lunch_ time. I’m hungry. So are you. I have my report; you want to hear it. As much as it goes against the military _denkweise_ , let’s be efficient and take care of both at once.” 

It always gave Roy a bit of a start when Edward used the unfamiliar words of an alien language from another world, though he never made it obvious. Or maybe Roy wasn’t hiding it as well as he thought, since he suspected that Edward did it in an attempt to throw his commander off balance. 

Edward rolled his eyes when Roy took too long to decide, then strolled over to sit on the General’s couch, sprawled bonelessly with one leg folded on top of the other, waiting. 

Decision made, Roy nevertheless took a few extra moments to admire the view from behind a bored expression before addressing a still frozen Havoc. 

“You are dismissed, Lieutenant,” he said. “Have a nice lunch.” 

Havoc scurried from the doorway with a relieved grimace, his habitually sloppy salute forgotten in his haste to escape. 

Roy now took the bull by the horns. “Your treat?” he said, quirking a grin at the blond occupying his couch. 

Edward bounced up with a shark toothed grin. “Of course,” he said magnanimously, leading the way. “I invited you, after all.” 

Roy followed, grabbing his overcoat from the rack by the door on his way out. 

It was clear that Edward had a destination in mind as he strode purposefully out of headquarters and into the busy noon hour streets of Central. Roy easily fell into step beside him, amused, and curious. 

What could have prompted this unusual behaviour on the part of his youngest subordinate? Up until this very day, Edward had always acted as though his commander was an annoyance he was forced to bear with very little tolerance, in and out of his presence as quickly as possible. Something was definitely up, and Roy was grinning with anticipation, eager to find out what it could be. 

As pointless as it would be to try to guess at the always capricious Fullmetal Alchemist’s motivations, Roy couldn’t help but speculate. Was this going to be a heads-up about something inconvenient that Edward had done which was about to come to light? Did the younger man need some kind of favor, extended time off to spend with his brother perhaps, and had he decided that this might be a suitable way to grease the rails of Roy’s approval? Edward clearly had no idea that there was very little Roy would refuse him regardless. 

Roy did not often leave Headquarters during the day except for official business, and even then he preferred to be chauffeured in a military staffcar, so it had been a long time since he’d had to brave the bustle of downtown sidewalks. Maneuvering through the heavy pedestrian traffic, he matched his pace to Edward’s shorter stride, an easy, unhurried stroll, noting with amusement that Edward’s stride was not actually that much shorter anymore. 

They didn’t have far to go. Cutting through a back alley brought the two men to a quieter side street. Edward led him two blocks further down to a small café. A neatly hand lettered sign on the wrought iron fence surrounding the quaint patio said, simply, ‘Satella’s’. The bell above the door jingled their arrival, and a pretty young woman turned to welcome them. 

“Eddie! It’s been too long!” She hurried over to greet Edward with a quick hug. “You haven’t stopped by in more than a month!” 

“Sorry about that.” Edward rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I’ve been really busy lately,” he said sheepishly. 

The woman brushed off the apology with a light wave of her hand. “Well, you’re here now, and it’s so nice to see you!” she said, smiling sweetly, and Roy was instantly reminded of Gracia, though the two women looked nothing alike. 

“Same here,” Edward told her. Then he turned to Roy. “General, this is Satella LeCoulte. She runs this establishment with her husband Ridel. They make the best chicken and dumplings in town. Satella, this is my commanding officer, Brigadier General Roy Mustang.” 

Roy held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you. Mrs. LeCoulte.” 

Satella raised an eyebrow at the General and smiled, taking his offered hand in a firm shake. “Likewise, General.” 

She led the two men through the busy dining room to a corner table by the wide, storefront window, the neat table setting gleaming in the sunlight. Leaving two menus, she soon returned with two glasses of water, and took their orders. Roy followed Ed’s lead and opted for the recommended chicken and dumplings. 

With Satella’s departure, the two men sat quietly, and Roy could tell by Edward’s determined expression that he was about to reveal the reason for this unprecedented departure from their normal routine. 

And he couldn’t resist a little teasing. 

“Fullmetal, this is lovely,” he said, a slight smirk allowed into his mild expression. “A warm and cozy setting for our first date. Good choice.” 

He was expecting a verbal reprimand that included liberal use of the ‘f’ word, with references as to Roy’s parentage, questionable legitimacy, and his mother’s possible employment as a sex trade worker. Roy arched an eyebrow in preparation; Edward on a rant was a sight to behold. 

He wasn’t expecting the calculating look he got instead. 

“We’re not at work. My name is Edward. Or Ed. Whichever you prefer.” 

Roy’s façade of cool, military command slammed into place, as it always did when taken by surprise. He suddenly felt he was in unfamiliar territory and at a tactical disadvantage. 

Was Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist . . . flirting with him? 

It was a firm but innocent assertion, stated almost casually. Almost. The look in Edward’s eyes, however, the intensity with which he was observing Roy’s reaction, the amused tilt to his lips, belied the simplicity. Whatever the actual motive for this lunch date, Edward had just upped the ante. 

But this was definitely a game for two players, and Roy was a master strategist. A challenge had been issued, and the Flame Alchemist was more than ready to engage. Elbows on the table, he leaned forward, eyelid dipping, a lazy smile slowly tilting his lips. 

“Why my dear _Edward_ ,” he purred, delighted when the younger man flushed an enchanting pink. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you might be flirting with me, although in a totally blunt, straightforward fashion.” 

“I’m a blunt, straightforward kind of guy,” Edward said, expression still neutral despite the blush. “And maybe you _don’t_ know better.” He raised an eyebrow. 

Roy was fortunately saved from an immediate response to that statement by the arrival of Satella with their lunch. Fortunate, because he was quite frankly astonished, once again, by the turn this conversation was taking. Roy hoped for a reprieve as Edward dug into his lunch, needing time to process this new development, but the younger man’s determined expression was proof enough that such a hope was in vain. 

Satella was barely out of earshot before Ed, ignoring the appetizing dish before him, continued. 

“Most of your team asked me why I stayed with the military,” he said. “Not you. Not Hawkeye. But everyone else.” Roy knew this. He had been on hand each time, listening intently for the response. “I never told anyone the real reason.” Edward took a deep breath. “I stayed because of _you_.” 

“Edward-” 

Edward bulldozed right over his Commander’s interruption. “You . . . matter. You’ve got goals, goals that go beyond just grabbing power and keeping it for yourself, unlike most of those other military assholes. You want it for a reason. The _right_ reason. I want to help you, like you helped me and Al. And I thought that the best way to do that was to renew my contract and stay under your command.” 

“Edward-” 

“But it was hard, because I . . . I’ve been . . . wanting you . . . for a long time.” The blush that deepened on Edward’s face did nothing to diminish his resolve; his gaze was unwavering. “It started out as a crush, but . . . it’s more, now. I realized it when I was stuck on the other side of the Gate, when you were on my mind almost as much as Al. Then, when I got back . . . I wanted to stay in the military, to help you reach your goals, even though I never thought anything could . . . happen between us. I knew you were way out of my league in that department, and I was okay with that.” 

“Edward-” 

“But then, last night, I . . . noticed something about you,” Edward continued. “The way you . . . are, around me, the way we interact, the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking . . . I think, maybe, you might want me, too. So.” His expression turned fierce. “How about giving it a try?” 

Roy tilted an amused smile. “Edward-” 

“Yeah, I’m younger than you,” Edward rushed in, “but I’m not a kid. I don’t think I ever was. You already know that I’m half metal and kind of fucked up and you’re still interested; I already know you’re an arrogant asshole and I’m still interested. I think that’s a good start.” 

If Edward’s blush got any darker, Roy thought Ed might actually stroke out. “Edward-” 

“And yeah, I’m your subordinate, but this isn’t anyone’s business but ours. Nobody has to know.” 

Roy frowned. This being cut off before he could get in a word was really quite annoying. “Edward-” 

“Sure, I have a big mouth, but I know how to keep secrets. We can keep it out of the office. I can be professional when I have to be, and you’ve made subterfuge into an art form, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Edward-” 

“And yeah, we’ll probably fight. A lot. Mostly because you’re a bastard, and I’m kind of a loose cannon. So if it doesn’t work out, that’s fine. Well, not _fine_ , exactly, but I think it’s worth a shot. We actually have a lot in common. We’re both alchemists, for one thing. We also understand each other because we’ve been through shit that other people can’t even imagine.” 

“Edward-” 

“I think we should take a chance on each other. Because it would be a shame to pass up this opportunity to find out if we could be really great together, just because it might be . . . a bit . . . risky.” 

It appeared that Edward was determined to beat down every single one of Roy’s objections before he could even voice them. 

“ _Edward,_ ” Roy started forcefully, determined to say what he had to, just before the entire building shook hard enough to nearly knock both men from their seats. 

The sound of gunfire in the distance was cut off by the rumble of another explosion that once again violently shook the surrounding buildings, a jagged crack leaping up the plate glass of the café’s window from bottom to top. Customers dove under tables as Satella and her husband stumbled out of the kitchen, eyes wide and frightened. Terrified cries from inside the café and outside in the neighbourhood were immediately drowned out by a third blast. 

Edward was out of his seat and through the door in less time than it took for the sound of the third explosion to Doppler away through the streets. Roy rushed after him, frowning at his youngest subordinate running flat-out, back toward headquarters where thick black smoke was rising into a dazzling blue sky, dodging through panicked knots of civilians running the other way. 

Not for the first time Roy felt an uncomfortable spike of concern, hard on the heels of a nagging sense of responsibility. As he pushed through the frenzied crowd in Edward’s wake, Roy had to admit that while he was protective of every single one of his subordinates, for Edward he had a particularly soft spot. Over time the resilient young man had slowly lost much of the naiveté he'd had when first earning his State Alchemist title, but had lost none of his earnest dedication. He was still as brave, as honest, and as valiant as ever, throwing himself into danger to protect others without hesitation, and Roy had long since acknowledged that it terrified him. He already knew what losing Edward felt like; he desperately wished never to experience that loss again.

Ed was an adult now, however, and a supremely capable one at that, despite his proclivity for the destruction of public property. He could only perceive Roy’s concern as condescending and would not appreciate it; and while Edward’s indignation would likely be entertaining, Roy would not offend him by expressing it, in this, a professional capacity. So Flame did what he always did when it came to Fullmetal: he pulled on his gloves and prepared to fight at his side. 

The public’s headlong flight away from Central Headquarters left the grounds eerily quiet as the two alchemists approached. Roy scanned their surroundings, making note of the gaping hole in the east wing, the two smoking craters marring the parade grounds, the awkwardly crumpled bodies scattered about like discarded toy soldiers. Edward was crouching by an injured soldier slumped against an over turned van, speaking quietly. Roy trotted closer and crouched down as well, eyes scanning the area for any hint of danger. 

“I don’t know what happened,” the injured woman gasped, struggling to speak. “The side of the building suddenly blew out. My unit was on perimeter duty, and our Lieutenant started shouting for us to form up and prepare to engage. I could hear shooting going on inside the building, and we took cover. The next thing I knew, I was halfway across the parade grounds.” Her eyes were haunted as she gazed out over the shattered ground, lingering on the unmoving heaps in tattered Amestrian blue. “That’s my unit. My comrades. My friends.” The soldier took a deep shuddering breath. Then she went limp. 

Roy did not see Edward ease her gently to the ground, head pillowed on his discarded jacket. Movement across the field had caught his eye, and he watched as a shadow broke away from the drifting smoke, resolving into a familiar foe. 

_Stonemason._

"Fullmetal," Roy growled, nudging the younger man with an elbow. "Take cover," he ordered, hoping that with any luck, the rogue alchemist hadn’t seen them yet. 

No such luck. She was making a beeline directly for them. 

And as always, Edward ignored his General’s order, choosing instead to remain crouched in front of the injured soldier, shielding her. 

Stonemason said not a word as she advanced, but something clenched in her fist glowed bright, slivers of light shining brilliantly through the gaps between her fingers. Edward’s clap was a blur. He slapped his hands to the van behind him and it flowed smoothly, curving over the three soldiers, just in time to protect them from an explosion so powerful it buckled and dented their thick metal shield. 

Though he couldn’t see exactly where their attacker was with Edward’s shield in place, Roy knew her general location, and he wasted no time, snapping his fingers to create a wall of flame just beyond their refuge. He sent it rolling like a wave in the direction of their adversary and was gratified to hear a shriek of pain, just before Edward dodged out from behind their steel barrier. Cursing under his breath, Roy followed. 

Stonemason was down on her knees, her clothing smoldering, but not finished. Edward’s hands were already together in another clap as the object in the other alchemist’s hand glowed again and a jumbled wall of rock leaped up to rumble toward them at an alarming rate of speed. Roy snapped, sending a narrow lance of blue-white flame toward Stonemason, straight through her attack, feeding it as much oxygen as he could, making it as intensely hot as his rage, desperately hoping he would reach her to in time to stop the inevitable, knowing that he was too late as the wall of destruction overtook them. 

Then a gleaming metal barrier shot up from the ground, high into the air. Wedge shaped, it diverted the oncoming boulder wave to either side, where it suddenly collapsed all at once. 

The silence that settled over the parade grounds was eerie, almost complete but for the small, ticking sound of cooling metal and stone. 

Roy rose from his crouch and moved cautiously to peer around the wedge through the dispersing smoke and dust. It took him a moment to find their foe. She was still down on her knees, staring at her charred hand and the remains of what it had contained. Her right arm and much of her chest was a cracked and blistered mess, gruesome to see, and the cloying smell of charred meat almost made Roy retch. Ragged, panting whimpers passed her lips, and as the two alchemists drew close, Stonemason finally spoke. 

“Flame,” she croaked. “You should have killed me.” 

She moved like a striking snake, so fast that Roy didn’t have time to register anything but the flash of steel slashing upward towards his throat. Then something heavy rammed into his side, slamming Roy to the ground and pinning him there. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh, of a strained groan, of a body dropping to the ground came in rapid succession, and by the time Roy shrugged Edward away and rolled to his feet, Stonemason was writhing feebly on her side in the dirt, the blade of her knife clutched in Edward’s automail fist, his shirt sleeve slashed from cuff to elbow. Edward stooped to pry loose what the badly burned woman still clutched in her charred hand, drawing a tortured gasped from her. 

Roy couldn’t dredge up a shred of pity for her. 

Ed held up a partially burned wooden disc, about the size of a 5 cen piece. The undamaged portion was etched with part of a complex array. Where Stonemason might have concealed this deadly weapon on her person Roy could only guess. 

The hurried trudge of approaching bootsteps heralded the belated arrival of a combat squad, armed to the teeth and ready for action. Swarming onto the scene from the direction of the barracks, the military police kept their guns trained on the curled figure trembling and moaning on the ground, while emergency medical teams fanned out to attend the many soldiers down on the parade grounds. Roy turned his attention to the squad commander, who approached the two alchemists and snapped up a smart salute. 

“We'll take it from here, General,” the Lieutenant told Roy, his face expressionless. “My superior, Colonel Donaghy, will be in charge of the investigation, and will give you a full report on the circumstances and particulars of this, this . . .” 

“Shitshow?” Edward suggested, scowling darkly. “Monumental screw up? Epic disaster caused by assholes who couldn’t properly secure a dangerous criminal?” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Roy cut in before a furious Edward could offer any more weighted suggestions. “I will expect that report on my desk within the hour.” 

The Lieutenant’s face was grim. “Yes Sir,” he said. “Colonel Donaghy may want to ask you a few questions to wrap up any loose ends, but that can wait if necessary. Do either you or Major Elric need medical attention?” He eyed the clean slash through Edward’s right sleeve, then raised a hand, clearly intending to signal a medic. 

“No need, Lieutenant. The field doctors here have their hands full as it is,” Roy stated with authority, ever the confident leader. “I'll get Major Elric to the Medical wing and see that his wound is treated.” A sharp glance at Edward effectively stalled his protest. “If anyone wishes to speak to either of us, contact my office. My adjutant will coordinate an interview.” 

Roy finally returned the man’s salute, releasing him back to his duties. 

Mercifully, Edward kept silent and simply followed his General away from the troopers seeing to the battle torn concourse, past Central Command’s imposing main building, more or less in the general direction of the medical wing. Military personnel were hurrying toward the battle ground, paying little attention to the two officers heading in the opposite direction. Roy angled his approach toward a more secluded side entrance, and then paused. The doorway was recessed into the white stone facia and shielded from view by drooping vines of ivy. 

Perfect. 

And just in time, as Edward’s patience was at an end. 

“What the hell, bastard?” he said. “It’s automail.” He clanged it off a lamppost to prove it. “I don’t need to see a doctor. Unless it’s scratched. In which case I’ll need an emergency medical team standing by when I show it to Winry.” He grimaced. 

“I realize that you aren’t injured, Fullmetal,” Roy assured him, “but implying that you were was a most expedient exit strategy. Our conversation at the restaurant was interrupted due to unforeseen circumstances after all. I would very much like to-” 

“Uh, yeah. About that.” Edward’s shoulders slumped as his eyes slid to the side. 

“Edward-” 

“Look, I guess I came on pretty strong, back at Satella’s.” Ed dropped his eyes to the ground, then looked back up to hold Roy’s steady gaze. “I get it, though, if you really don’t want to . . . you know . . . give us a chance.” He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. 

“Edward -” 

The younger man cut him off again. “I know you have big plans, shit to do, goals to reach, and you’d be in big trouble if anyone found out. I don’t want to screw up your life for you.” 

“Edward-” 

“I didn’t think it through, from your perspective I mean,” Edward continued in earnest. “It’s probably best if we just forget the whole thing, Mustang, and-” 

Roy stalked forward to slide an arm around Ed’s waist, pinning the smaller man's body against his and pulling him under the shelter of the ivy. Roy stroked a palm over Edward’s blush, back to tangle in golden hair as Roy leaned in and enthusiastically locked their lips together. Ed, a little stunned at first, quickly overcame his shock and opened his mouth to Roy’s questing tongue. He grabbed two handfuls of Roy’s uniform jacket to pull him even closer and hung on for the ride. Teeth scraped and tongues clashed as Roy invaded the Fullmetal Alchemist's mouth, leaving no place unexplored, reveling in the taste of him at long last. The kiss was by no means gentle or sweet, and totally inappropriate for a first kiss, but neither Flame nor Fullmetal were of sweet or gentle disposition, or cared to play by the rules of propriety, so it was perfect nonetheless. All too soon Roy withdrew, reluctantly releasing Ed with a playful nip to his lower lip. 

“It’s still lunch hour and technically, we’re not at work. My name is Roy,” he purred with a serene smile. “Can I take you out tonight?” 

“Hell, I don’t know,” Edward said, a bit breathless. “I’m not doing so great when it comes to eating out, lately. We might not make it through dinner.” 

“I’m more than willing to take that chance,” the General decided. “I’ll pick you up. Eight o’clock.”

 

~0~ 

 

As far as Edward was concerned, dinner was a hit despite a rocky start. 

Roy had been late for their much anticipated date, since, as usual, his neglected paperwork had conspired against him to exact its long overdue revenge, and on top of that he’d had to deal with the aftermath of Stonemason’s escape attempt. Between the damage caused during her previous battle with Edward through Central’s streets, and the panic her violent escape attempt had caused, it had fallen to the Flame Alchemist as the highest ranking State Alchemist to placate the general public and reassure them that everything was under control. 

The investigation into the rogue alchemist’s rampage through Central Command was concluded, though with very few answers. No one was sure where Stonemason had concealed the disc etched with her signature array prior to her arrest, but it had obviously been missed when she was searched. The former State Alchemist was currently under heavy guard in the hospital, and faced the charges she had been on the run from for the past ten years, as well as new charges for the carnage she had wrought while trying to escape custody. Edward did not think she could avoid a guilty verdict, or the firing squad. 

Despite the city's unease in the wake of the day’s events, Roy had managed to book a reservation for that evening at one of his favorite restaurants. It was in the city’s older sector, and the General had assured Edward that casual dress was perfectly fine, for which Edward was grateful. Since Alphonse had left for Resembool, Edward’s wardrobe was limited to his standard work wear, which consisted of his brown woolen, single vested jacket with matching vest and trousers, an assortment of white cotton high collar shirts, and a single pair of black dress pants. 

He’d rubbed the scuffs off his shoes and opted for the dress pants paired with a clean white shirt complete with sleeve garters, a close-fitting brown vest, and his usual jacket. It seemed to be fine judging from the gleam in Roy’s eye and the appreciative once over he’d given him when Ed had answered the door. The General himself had arrived in full uniform, foregoing a detour to his home for a change of clothes so as not to be even later for their date. 

Not that Ed minded. He rather liked the way Mustang looked in Amestrian blue. 

As expected, the restaurant was very nice and the food had been great, because there was no way Mr. Sauvé would take a date to a back-alley soup kitchen – though Ed had to admit that he had eaten some really good meals in soup kitchens over the years. Better still was the conversation. Ed had anticipated some level of awkwardness, both because of the impending change in their circumstances, and because it was Ed’s actual middle name in social situations. 

The awkward never materialized, however. 

Even when Ed had said, “I hope you brought some serious cash, Mustang, because I’m hungry enough to eat the asshole out of a dead cat,” just as the waiter stepped up to the table. 

The waiter, obviously a consummate professional, never batted an eye, and Mustang, unfazed, had said, “We aren’t at work. It’s Roy,” with a charming smile and an amused twinkle in his eye. 

The two men had then proceeded to engage in some quality banter over steak and potatoes instead of the bastard’s paperwork, and Edward had enjoyed it immensely. It was familiar. Comfortable. Relaxing. 

Until they were leaving the restaurant, and Roy suggested coffee. 

At his place. 

There had been no pressure; Roy’s face had been a study in neutrality with just the hint of a hopeful smile. 

And how could Ed possibly refuse him, when his mind had lingered on that mindblowing kiss all day long? 

Roy’s townhouse was nothing like Edward expected. As a decorated General, Ed had assumed Roy would live in some sprawling manor house in the suburbs. Roy’s actual home was a neat brick two story on a quiet street not far from the restaurant. Roy ushered Ed through the door with a hand light on the small of his back, into a tidy foyer, taking his coat to hang it on the wooden rack just inside. Then he led him to a cosy sitting room and snapped the fireplace alight with an unabashed flourish. 

“I’ll just set the coffee to brew,” Roy said quietly, and left Edward to explore. 

So. 

Apparently ‘coffee’ actually meant ‘coffee’. Not that Ed was disappointed, exactly. Nor did it mean that ‘coffee’ in the biblical sense was off the table. He was willing to wait and find out what else Roy planned to serve with this coffee. 

From what Ed could see, the bastard had a really nice home, but still, not quite what Ed expected. The living room wasn’t like a showcase from some fancy home decorating magazine. It was, well, _homey_. A refuge. The couch and armchairs looked comfortable, perfect for relaxing by the fire. The rug was thick and soft under his heel. The mantle was wide and sported framed pictures of people Ed both knew and didn’t. He was naturally drawn to one of the inset bookshelves framing the fireplace, and ran a finger over the spines, noting the familiar titles, taking note of the unfamiliar as well. Most were alchemic tomes, with other scientific texts and historical military volumes mixed in; Philalethes’ _Speculum Veritatis_ rubbed shoulders with _Mathematical Methods of Classical Mechanics_ and _Armies at War: Battles and Campaigns._

The rich smell of brewing dark roast pulled Edward way from the books and down a short hall to a small, brightly lit kitchen. Roy smiled over his shoulder at his approach, busy setting sugar, cream, and teaspoons on a serving tray. Edward leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching, the uncomplicated domesticity of the scene putting him at ease. Roy soon had arranged two streaming cups on the tray as well, and led the way back to the sitting room. Placing the tray on the coffee table, smile a bit rueful, Roy took a seat on one end of the couch. 

Edward sat on the other, now feeling a bit uneasy. 

“We need to talk,” Roy said, and then held up a hand when Ed opened his mouth. “And I would appreciate it if you would hear me out.” 

Uh oh. Ed closed his mouth and battened down his metaphorical hatches. This didn’t sound good. Had dinner somehow convinced Roy that hooking up with Ed was a mistake after all? Was Ed’s ego about to get the ass-kicking it was always convinced that it deserved? Shit. It had seemed to be going so well. 

Roy smiled softly. “I need you to know, that wherever we go from here is up to you.” When Ed’s mouth remained closed, he continued. “You _are_ a lot younger than me, and while I can’t pretend to know your level of experience in situations of this nature, I have to assume that it does not come close to mine. And I don’t want that to matter.” 

Ed mentally sighed with relief, and decided that he’d find out where this was going before he made any comment. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Roy said earnestly. “There is no pressure to take this any farther than you feel comfortable with going. This should never be about what you may assume about my expectations. It is about what you decide is right for you. That is my only expectation.” 

“Mustang-” 

“Roy.” His smile widened. “We are not at work.” 

“Roy.” Edward scrubbed his hands over his face, willing himself not to blush. “My experience level is zero, okay? Nil. _Null_. _Nichts_.” A couple of stolen kisses here and there didn’t really count. “I’m going to be relying on you to show me the way.” 

“And I’m going to be relying on you to let me know if I’m going in the right direction, at an appropriate pace.” Ed didn’t think he had ever seen a more sincere expression in Roy’s smile, though it now turned rueful. “You were right, however, when you noted that we will have to keep the change our relationship is about to take a carefully guarded secret. The military takes breeches in protocol regarding fraternization very seriously. My career could suffer if it was discovered that we were together as a couple.” 

“Just yours?” Edward asked, frowning. 

“It is always the senior officer who is held accountable,” Roy explained. 

“But that’s not fair. _I_ approached _you_.” 

“Which is as it should be. You are my subordinate, and much younger. There would have been a risk that some kind of coercion might be at work otherwise.” 

Ed’s eyes bugged out. “Coercion? Really?” He snorted. “You can’t even ‘coerce’ me into wearing the damn uniform. Or giving a fuck about all that ‘proper military procedure’ horseshit. Or following your orders most of the time.” 

Roy’s smile turned wry. “Nevertheless, I preferred not to take that chance. _You_ had to make the first move. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t let you know, however subtly, that your advances would be most welcome.” 

Edward thought about that for a moment, and his brows lowered into a frown. “Okay, let me get this straight. The staring. The body language. The tone of voice. All the little tells. Shit. You planned this?” 

“Well, ‘planned’ isn’t quite how I’d phrase it,” Roy said, smirk carefully absent. “I left vague clues for you to follow, if you were so inclined.” 

“And Hawkeye was in on it?” Edward asked, amazed at the unrepentant audacity of this man. 

Roy’s eyebrows shot up. “What? No.” Now it was his turn to frown. “Why would you think that?” 

Oh. That was an actual relief. “She sort of . . . pointed me in the right direction.” 

Roy’s smile was slow and sinful. “Then I will be sure to have a dozen dark pink roses delivered to her door, complete with thorns of course.” Then the older man’s tone became serious once more. “And while I am profoundly grateful to her, I can only hope that she simply pointed, and didn’t push. This is the start of something that has all the potential for being either the best thing that ever happened to us, or the worst. I have been hoping for this chance for a long time, and don’t want to risk ruining it by rushing you. If all we share tonight is coffee, then that’s perfectly fine.” 

Roy was certainly being very careful here. Careful with a capital C. Almost too careful, considering that no-shit super aggressive kiss from earlier, and Edward couldn’t help but wonder why. It was almost as if . . . 

Wait. 

“Do _you_ not want to?” Edward asked, careful to keep the disappointment from his tone. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t. We don’t have to . . .” 

“Edward.” Roy looked perplexed. “Of course I want to. I’ve wanted to for quite some time. When it comes to you, I will _always_ want to. I just need you to understand that this shouldn’t be about what _I_ want. It should be about what _you_ want.” 

Edward frowned. “Can’t it be about . . . what _we_ want?” 

Roy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise again. Then a slow smile built on his face to light up his eye. 

“In that case,” he said, voice low and sultry, “may I?” 

He slid closer and reached out his hand, slowly, fingers grazing the curve of Edward’s jaw, to the back of his head and up to nudge the band holding Ed’s hair in its high tail. Ed couldn’t resist nestling his cheek into the course blue cloth beside his face, and Roy took that as permission to pull the band free, loosing a golden cascade to tumble over Ed’s shoulders. Weaving gentle fingers into the silken fall, Roy carded through it, eye gleaming with appreciation. 

But Edward was determined to hold his own in this encounter. It was the only way to prove to Roy that he was just as invested in this as the older man, and never mind the gap in their age and experience. His hand didn’t shake even a little as he bushed knuckles tenderly over Roy’s cheek, feeling the slight rough of evening stubble, to trace a fingertip against the lower edge of Roy’s eyepatch. 

Start as you mean to continue. “May I?” Edward asked quietly, with no hint of challenge, well aware that Roy was never seen without it. “It’s okay if you’re not ready.” 

Roy’s answering smile was all about trust, without a hint of reservation. “You may, and I am.” 

Edward lifted the stiff cloth up, slipping the strap out from Roy’s hair, and absently laid the patch aside. Roy held perfectly still, hands twined in Ed’s hair, as Edward explored what was revealed lightly with his fingers. 

The jagged scar beside the eye socket was lighter than the surrounding skin, and smooth to the touch, and while the sealed crescent of eyelid was sunken with no eye behind to fill it out, it still appeared to be nothing more complicated than a closed eye despite the lack of eyelashes. Edward tilted a tender smile. All in all, this was a tale etched into the skin, a memory forged from a life lived the hard way, without fear of consequence for doing what was right. 

Roy’s remaining eye was upon him, his hands now resting loosely on Ed’s shoulders, awaiting, Ed realized, his verdict on this secret revealed. 

And so, without thinking, Ed pressed his lips to the scar, then immediately pulled away, flushing beet red. Holy shit! Could he get any sappier? 

For a moment, Roy remained frozen, saying nothing. Then he stood and took Edward’s hand, pulling him to his feet. 

“We need a change of venue,” Roy said, voice distinctly rough. “You are devastating my self control, Edward, and as comfortable as my couch is, it isn’t ideally suited for the kind of activities I have in mind.” 

Then he led the way, out of the sitting room, down the short hallway, and up the stairs to the bedroom, Edward’s hand clasped tight all the way and coffee forgotten. 

Roy swung the door open and stepped aside, letting the younger man step through first. 

Ed knew immediately that this was Roy’s own bedroom. For one thing, it smelled of clean linen, wood smoke, and Roy. For another, it felt lived in. A bedside lamp had been left on, and it lit the spacious chamber with a soft, mellow glow. Edward made note of a sturdy, book and paper strewn desk positioned in front of a wide window – curtains pulled closed of course – with overburdened bookshelves on either side, and had to smile. The rest of the room was very much like the sitting room; comfortably furnished and cosy as hell. 

But it was the bed that finally caught and held Edward’s eyes. 

At last, something about Roy’s home was exactly as Edward expected it to be. 

Opulent king size four poster, of course, thick and plush, high off the floor. The deep burgundy comforter folded at the bottom of the bed looked extravagantly soft, as did the plethora of pillows against the headboard. The sheets were crisp and clean, and Ed knew the cotton would feel more like silk against his skin. It was definitely the perfect place for a lazy, procrastinating bastard to spend a leisurely Sunday, reading, relaxing, and just daydreaming the time away. 

And if this worked out, Edward might occasionally be joining him. 

A deft snap of fingers lit the fireplace and warmth replace the slight chill in the room that Ed hadn’t even noticed. Then Roy was there at his back placing his hands on Ed’s hips to turn him slowly around. The flames reflected in the older man’s eye weren’t nearly as hot as the man himself, as he very deliberately pulled his gloves off one by one with his teeth to toss them carelessly over his shoulder.

Edward reach his invitation, and Roy stepped in closer as Edward’s arms curled around his back, hands splayed against his spine, smoothing up to his shoulders. Roy curved a hand into golden hair to his nape, and Edward’s head tipped back baring his throat to watch Roy through half lidded eyes deepened to amber in the dimness. The older man accepted this generous offer, dipping to trail slow kisses down Edward’s bare throat. The younger man’s breath caught on a gasp, a tooth denting his lower lip and struggling for control as heat built low in his belly, edging sly fingers lower still. 

Edward was feeling an odd mixture of dazed awe and pure hunger; his harsh breaths drew a low purr from Roy but did not stop the progress of his teasing kisses. Indeed, it was clear that Roy had no intention of stopping whatsoever. Even through a pulse of arousal, enough sense remained for Edward to marvel. Mustang’s mouth was sinfully skilled, heightening Ed’s desire for this man to a level he never imagined existed. All previous experiences paled in comparison to this; the velvet press of Mustang’s tongue against his throat, tracing abstract patterns on his skin, the clean sharpness of teeth, the soft pressure of lips, the flutter of breath.      

Gasping as Roy’s teeth nipped gently at his collar bone, Ed’s eyes fluttered half-open, wondering dazedly when they had drifted closed. His gaze was caught and held by Mustang’s intense regard, his dark eye lit from within, a blaze of heat and want.

"Okay?" Roy whispered, the intimacy of his smoky voice sending a shiver down Ed's spine. 

Like it somehow might _not_ be okay to have Roy’s lips on his skin, to discover how good it could feel, entranced by lazy, hungry eyes. Roy’s warm breath on his throat was thrilling; his skin smelled of hot sparks mingled with a masculine scent that was unique to Roy alone. Fire raced along Ed’s nerves from the soles of his feet to the roots of his hair, igniting a careless, reckless passion. 

Ed nodded, voice lost. Yes. This was so much more than just okay. 

Almost on their own, Ed’s hands rose to settle on Roy’s chest. Through his palm Ed could feel the General's hard strength, noticing the faint tremor that coursed through the man at his touch, and he drew a measure of reassurance from that, feeling less like some dumb kid reaching for the impossible, feeling more . . . confident. 

“God, Ed,” Roy breathed. “You have no idea how long I have dreamed of this. I never believed that dreams could come true, least of all this one. But it has.”

And then he leaned in to catch Edward up in a slow, thorough kiss. 

Ed’s hands had fisted in Roy’s collar, and that was a waste. He loosed his grip and brought trembling fingers to the buttons of Roy’s jacket, slipping them one by one so he could push the heavy blue wool from the man’s broad shoulders. Roy shrugged out of it without breaking the kiss, and it dropped to the floor with a muffled thump. Ed started work on the buttons of Roy’s shirt next. The cloth felt smooth beneath his hand, making him impatient for the touch of warm skin underneath. Roy left the lead to Edward, purring at the stroke of a palm on his bare shoulder when the shirt joined his jacket on the floor. 

Lean and toned, Roy had the clean cut frame of a dedicated boxer, standing passive as Edward explored with his eyes, with his hands. Roy’s unmarked skin was a uniform ivory, soft and supple beneath Ed’s palms. He’d had always known Mustang would be breathtaking, but being allowed to touch? This was more than he'd ever thought possible. 

Roy let his hands slide slowly to rest on Ed’s hips, his fingers lightly tracing the buttons of Edward’s waistcoat on the way down. 

“Take it off,” Edward whispered against Roy’s lips.

The General made a faint sound of satisfaction and reached to do so. He made short work of the vest, then pushed it aside to tackle the buttons of Edward’s shirt, finally slipping both off and letting them drop to the floor with a quiet whisper of cloth. It was Edward who tugged up his thin white undershirt, baring skin and scars without hesitation. Biting his lip, Roy reached out to touch the worst of them, tracing around his automail port, a slow caress that made Ed tense with a shiver of pleasure. 

Roy’s purring chuckle was almost a growl, and Ed found himself smiling in anticipation when Roy reached for his belt buckle with query in his eye. A nod granted permission, and Roy undid the buckle and pulled the strap from its loops. Then the button, the zip, and pants and boxers dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Edward tried his best not to blush as the last defender of his modesty fell away, freeing his already erect manhood, but was completely unsuccessful. Not that it disturbed Roy in the least. His eye sparkled with pleasure, as charmed as Ed was embarrassed. 

“I wouldn’t keep doing that, my dear Edward,” Roy murmured by Ed’s ear. “I won’t be able to control myself if you keep that up.”

Ed swallowed thickly, feeling Roy’s teeth gently nip his earlobe before warm, wet lips closed on it with gentle suction. Then one of Roy’s hands was stroking down his back, the other caressing his chest and sliding slowly, playfully lower, watching him intently. Edward’s eyes tracked down, and realized that Roy was still partially clothed. 

Edward found his voice, rough as it was. “I think you’re overdressed, General,” he said. 

“Roy,” the man reminded him, lowly. “We aren’t at work.” 

The bastard was never going to let that go, was he.

The sound of a zipper seemed overly loud in the quite of the room. Edward’s eyes were glued to Roy’s hands as he slowly eased down his pants, cavalry skirt, and boxers. Then he treated Ed to a calculating smile as he kicked them off completely. Ed took him in from head to toe, mouth unbearably dry. 

Gorgeous. Roy was gorgeous, standing there in the golden glow of the fireplace, supremely confident and unashamed, eye lit with desire for Ed. 

“Touch me,” he heard Roy say, and Ed did, wrapping his hands around Roy’s hips and pulling him close to kiss him, hard and deep. 

Their erections rubbed together, and Edward couldn’t suppress the moan that rose in his throat. Roy’s grin was wicked as he dragged his fingers up the ridges and valleys of his sides, skimming his thumbs around the hard knot of Ed’s single nipple, pulling another delicious moan from the younger man. Down again, hands firm on his back, coming to rest just at the crest of Ed’s ass, and no further. 

The warmth of those hands and the scent of Roy’s skin were filling his senses, and Edward felt an overwhelming urge to taste. Nuzzling aside the feather lightness of Roy’s dark hair, Ed pressed his lips to the other man's throat, feeling it when Roy swallowed. Edward indulged himself, kissing a slow, lingering path up to the other man's jaw, his heart racing with delight when Roy slowly tilted his head back, asking for more.

Edward didn't have the will power to refuse such a request. Letting his teeth graze against the other man's skin, he followed with his tongue, and he felt more than heard Roy’s groan through his own chest. Roy found Ed’s hand and pulled him the few steps toward the bed, smiling expectantly as he sat on the edge, tugging Edward towards him. It was clear he meant for Edward to straddle his lap, but Ed stopped him with a firm hand against his chest. 

“Wait,” Ed said with a grin, voice low. 

And nudged Roy’s legs wide to kneel between them. 

The look on the older man’s face was priceless, jaw somewhat slack with surprise. His wide eye asked, quite clearly, if Ed meant to . . . 

Why yes, Ed’s cocky grin replied. Yes he did. 

And really, Flame should have known better than to expect Fullmetal to be satisfied with taking a passive role, inexperienced or not.

Kneeling gingerly between Roy’s legs, Ed let one hand rest lightly at Roy’s hip, his thumb caressing the velvet-smooth skin covering that curve of bone. Glancing up, he found Roy watching him with something resembling astonishment, yet his fond gaze sent only encouragement. 

Dropping his eyes, Ed considered the hard length arching out of a nest of dark curls, his fingers sliding closer of their own accord, curling curiously around its thickness. Leaning over, he traced his tongue over the silken softness of the head, licking the clear fluid that slicked the tiny slit. Then he traced a slow, wet path down to the edge of his steadying fist, pleased by the strangled moan from above. Ed might not have done this before, but it wasn’t rocket science; he could do this. And, come to think of it, he was pretty damn good at rocket science, too.

Taking the head into his mouth, he circled it with his tongue before letting as much as he could slide deeper into his mouth, reaching for Roy’s hips as the man did his best not to buck into him. Swiping his tongue over the shaft, Ed pulled back, then bobbed forward again, rocking, in and out, finding a rhythm that let him breathe as he relaxed into it, wishing he had enough control to open his throat and take Roy in entirely. He kept his hand moving instead, glancing up now and then to catch the dark, firelit gaze locked upon him, feeling the man’s tension mount higher and higher.

 _But I don’t want this to be over too fast_ , Edward realized, and with a sudden spark of inspiration he let Roy's cock slip from his mouth, ignoring the man's groan when he released him. There was so much more to learn, and the night was still young. Ed began to examine Roy’s testicles, testing their weight in his palm, rolling them with his fingers, sampling their soft velvet against his lips and tongue, breathing deep the musky, masculine scent. Roy’s approving purr made him smile, and Ed paused in his exploration to glance at his subject. Roy’s expression was pure, unadulterated bliss, breathing deep and irregular with both hands fisted in the sheets. 

“As always, Edward, you exceed expectations,” Roy said, words thick with need. 

And then he was cupping Edward’s face to draw him slowly, slowly, up, to lock their lips together in yet another languid kiss. 

Edward’s eyes drifted closed as Roy took his time, exploring his mouth, just letting himself _feel_ , the warmth of hands cradling his jaw, the play of fingers in loose strands of gold at his nape, the dizzying scent of Roy’s skin, the heady taste of his tongue. An electric thrill shivered down Ed’s spine, exciting, as anticipation ramped up the steady beat of his heart. 

“Ed,” Roy said quietly. “What do you want?” 

Decent, honorable _bastard_. He wasn’t going to do anything that Ed didn’t ask for, to acknowledge that this was truly what he wanted.

"I want you." It was only the truth. 

“Do you want to be inside me?” 

"No," Edward said, firmly. "I've never . . . I could hurt you." Edward swallowed, self-conscious. 

“Ed-” 

“I’m not saying ‘never’,” Ed hurried to add. “I just . . . think I need some . . . experience. From the . . . receiving end.” And was he ever going to stop fucking blushing? Stupid fucking sympathetic nervous system and its stupid fucking involuntary physical responses. 

“What do you want, Ed?” Roy asked again, gently. 

“You," Ed said at last, his eyes locked with Roy’s. “To fuck me. Show me how it’s done.”

"You had only to ask," Roy purred, eye sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection. 

Yes, the man was, without any doubt whatsoever, a certifiable Bastard.

Ed didn’t have time to offer that observation out loud, however, because Roy tugged him to sit on the bed, then sank to the floor so gracefully that Ed’s mouth went dry once again, and if that wasn't desire in his dark blue eye, Ed didn't know what it might be. 

He was still having trouble believing it. Roy wanted him. It defied all reason, but Ed wasn't going to complain. Ed could feel the heat of him against his legs, more real than any fantasy, and after everything they’d done so far his cock was fully and almost painfully hard.

"You need to relax if this is going to be as pleasurable for you as it most definitely will be for me," Roy murmured, kneeling between Ed’s legs but not touching him, just looking up at him, breathless and hungry. “And I know the perfect means to that end.” Then he reached out to take Edward’s cock into his hand, palming it, stroking it, and then gripping it firmly at the base.

The bed creaked as Edward’s hips jerked, and it was a good thing Roy had a tight grip on him, otherwise he probably would have come on the spot. Roy’s eye never left his face, even as he bent closer, breath hot on the head of Ed’s cock when he purred, "I want to taste you." Ed’s whole body quaked as Roy opened his mouth, extending his tongue to trace a slow, wet line up his length, never losing eye contact, and Ed’s legs spread wider all on their own, giving Roy more room. Roy seemed content to just lick, taking his time, curling his tongue around the sides and teasing the head with deft, teasing flicks, driving Ed wild.

"Roy," Ed whispered, cringing at his pleading tone, but Roy didn't wait a second longer, sliding his mouth down Ed's shaft. 

Their low, desperate moans were in harmony as Roy’s eye finally fluttered closed. 

"Oh, hell, Roy," Ed groaned as his breath caught, lost in the sensation of wet heat as Roy hollowed his cheeks to suck _hard_. 

The bed squeaked again as Ed leaned back for more leverage, his feet planted on the floor, his thighs tense. He knew he had to control himself to avoid choking Roy, but it was killing him not to thrust when it felt so, so good, the way Roy swallowed him down, then pulled back, again, and again, mouth relentless, tongue winding around him on every stroke. Ed untwisted his hands from the sheets to tangle instead in Roy’s hair; Roy hummed his pleasure around him, and Ed couldn’t help but to moan, fingers combing through silken strands, careful of the automail, careful not to clutch too hard. Deep intense blue blinked open to meet blazing amber as Roy leaned his body closer, and his hand settled light to stroke tenderly over Ed’s knee, over his thigh. 

That dark gaze and simple touch finally tipped Ed over the brink. He choked on the warning he meant to give, coming hard. Roy didn't stop, milking every drop from him until Ed was spent, collapsed on his back and completely relaxed. 

Holy _shit_. 

~0~

For once in his life, something Roy hadn't planned was going far better than he could ever have wished. 

He’d given up hope, actually, after all this time. Yet against all odds, his patience had paid off. Roy almost couldn’t believe it. Edward was there, sprawled on the bed, golden skin sheened with sweat, the silver of his automail reflecting the glow of the low burning fire, his half-lidded eyes like sunshine sparkling with desire, lips tilted in a lazy smile, his delectable almost-innocence completely irresistible. Roy kept wondering if he was going to wake up alone in his bed at any moment. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. 

But no dream could possibly compare to this.

It had been a long time since Roy had taken a lover, and even longer since he’d had a man in his bed. Any lube he may have in his nightstand was bound to be outdated. Edward’s eyes followed him as he stood, then crawled up the bed, hovering over Ed’s prone body. Roy reached over from where he knelt between muscular thighs, skin sliding briefly on skin as Roy opened the drawer, both men tensing helplessly at the charged contact. Roy was too close to the edge to retain control for long, but being with Ed was probably enough to make anyone lose control. Really, he was lovely like this, though Roy would never say so out loud and risk automail retribution.

Roy marveled that he had been able to stick to his resolve with the hope that one day Edward might come to him on his own. He had given up that hope when months had turned into a year and more, admitting with certainty building in his core that he may have been too clever for his own good this time, that he should have just confessed and let the chips fall where they might. 

But he couldn’t, for all the reasons he had outline for Ed. And after he had been leaving hints for so long, Roy had convinced himself that either Edward actually didn’t like him all that much – as his behaviour seemed to indicate - or he hadn’t picked up on Roy’s subtle hints, or, far worse, Edward had found someone else to call his own and Roy had missed his golden opportunity. 

Because Edward quite literally _was_ Roy’s golden opportunity. Edward was right, after all. They really were perfect for each other. They could understand each other, could exist comfortably in each other's world, because they knew all the dark corners therein. Ed was Roy’s perfect balance, so openly honest and candid, where Roy was so guarded and smoothly glib. Roy smiled down at his new lover as he straightened with a bottle of lotion in his hand.

If Riza was responsible for pointing Edward his way, Roy owed her far more than a dozen roses. 

"Come here," Roy smiled, pulling Edward up further on to the bed, pleased at the trust that Edward’s easy compliance implied. Then he shifted to kneel between Ed’s spread legs as Ed bent his automail knee and tilted it away. 

Ed’s cheeks had turned faintly pink again as Roy slicked two fingers, though the younger man showed no real trepidation about what he expected to happen. Roy kept his eye firmly on Ed’s as his fingers circled Ed’s opening, rubbing sweetly before pressing one finger slowly past the breech. Edward’s breath caught on a low moan, biting his lip as Roy pressed slowly, slowly deeper. His teasing made Ed’s lashes dip, and Roy couldn’t help but purr. The second finger followed, slow and steady. Roy wanted everything to be just right for this, their first time. 

And definitely not their last, if Roy had anything to say about it. 

Edward shifted, and Roy's breath caught at the raw hunger in golden eyes, their slow progress affecting Ed deeply, rekindling his arousal. Edward’s eyes were rapt on the flex of Roy's wrist, swallowing hard as Roy worked him gently open, three inside now, and Roy curled his fingers _just so_. 

He knew he’d found the right spot when Ed's hips snapped instinctively up to meet them.

Roy’s smile was positively feral as he did it again, watching with unconcealed delight as Edward arched up once more. And again, as Edward was rapidly reduced to mindless curses, one arm thrown back to clutch the headboard, one leg thrown over Roy's shoulder, fucking himself on Roy's hand, before Roy finally realized that unless he got busy right now, he was going to embarrass himself. He eased his fingers out, quickly slicked up his cock, and then, slowly, with far more control than he believed himself capable of at that point, entered Edward in one smooth thrust.

Roy's eyes grew wide at the exquisite sensation of it, hot and tight and infinitely better than he imagined. Edward thoroughly approved; his strangled cry was loud in the quiet of the room, but not quite loud enough to wake the neighbourhood. Roy was pleased to know, as he had suspected, that Edward would be a vocal, uninhibited lover.

"Come on," Ed groaned, doing something with his inner muscles that made Roy thrust despite himself. He'd wanted to give Ed time to adjust to him, but Edward had other plans, pulling him deeper and wrapping his legs around Roy's back, urging him on. The man was simply _incredible._ How could Roy refuse him anything?

So Roy gave himself up to his urges, pulled back, and then thrust in again, just a bit harder. Biting back another cry, Ed dug his flesh fingers into Roy's back with a look of such intense bliss washing over his face that Roy had to do it again, harder still, thrusting into Edward with an upward grind that made Edward fall apart at the seams.

Oh yes. That was definitely the right angle _._

Roy couldn’t have taken his eyes off Edward’s face if he wanted to. He was _beautiful_. Roy was captivated by Ed’s expression of wanton need, arching up to meet every thrust. He watched, mesmerized, as angling his stroke just a little differently took Edward completely outside himself. It was a most compelling sight, and Roy devoured it, revelling in Edward’s pleasure. Nothing existed in that moment but their primal, inexorable rhythm.

But it couldn’t last forever. Roy was close, right on the edge and fighting for control, and so was Edward, he could see it in his glazed eyes. Biting his lip, Roy brushed sweat-damp hair from Edward’s brow, then reached for the younger man’s straining erection, wrapping his hand around it. With a faint blush to his cheeks Ed’s eyes widened, and a muffled whine caught in his throat, spurring Roy to thrust harder, faster. 

His control slipped as Edward’s choked curses charged the air between them. Feeling his own approaching orgasm, Roy tightened his grip around Edward’s cock, and in three strokes, Edward was undone, his fluids spattering his own stomach and Roy’s hand, as warm as blood. Roy barely noticed. Ed's inner muscles were tightening around him in waves, and the powerful sensation triggered his own orgasm without warning. Bracing himself over Edward, he rode it out, panting harshly as he thrust a few more times and was still, forcing himself to breathe again.

When he opened his eye at last, there was a pair of intense golden eyes looking up at him with satisfaction. Reminding himself to be careful, he eased out of Edward's body and rolled to the side. The two men lay there for a short while, catching their breath, not speaking, though the silence was not uncomfortable. 

Edward broke it regardless. 

“That was amazing,” he observed, voice low. 

Roy hummed his agreement, content. 

A few more moments, and Roy could almost hear the gears turning in Edward’s head. 

"So . . . what now?" Ed asked quietly. “Should I . . . go home?”

Roy looked away, letting his eyes wander over the room, lingering on their scattered clothes, before looking back to Edward 

"I have to be up early tomorrow," he said, and Ed nodded, wary, bracing for rejection, but Roy couldn’t maintain the deception. "Please stay," Roy asked quietly, then couldn’t resist a little more teasing. “Unless you snore. In which case, you can have the couch. It _is_ rather small, but I’m sure it would be a comfortable fit.” 

"Fuck you, Roy!" Edward snapped, his harsh words tinged with relief. "I'm not fucking _small_ , and snoring is for old people, like _you_." 

Then Ed rolled to rest his head on Roy’s shoulder, throwing an arm across Roy’s chest, still grumbling under his breath.

Roy didn't know where this would end, or what was to come, but for now he slipped an arm around Edward’s waist to pull him closer. This was what he had been hoping for, for a very long time, but it was nothing like he had expected. Despite his reputation, Roy could count on his fingers the people he'd spent the night with, but it had never felt anything like this. This was something completely new, and it was equally as frightening as it was exhilarating. 

This was _permanent_. 

No, Edward should definitely not go home. Ever, but Roy supposed he'd have to take Ed out a few more times before he suggested cohabiting so as not to appear too pathetically smitten - though he totally _was_. It was just that, for the first time in his life, Roy knew without a doubt he had someone worth holding on to. And he meant to, for as long as Ed would have him. Forever, if Roy had his way. 

Looking down, Roy realized that Edward had drifted off to sleep. Relaxed in slumber, his peaceful face sent a warm feeling through Roy’s chest, and he closed his eyes with an internal sigh. 

After years of hoping, and despite everything he had never done to deserve it, Roy’s patience had finally been rewarded. 

Sleep came easily, with his beloved by his side.

 


End file.
